


Words Never Said

by FreddyHoneychurch



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Hurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4144005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreddyHoneychurch/pseuds/FreddyHoneychurch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin's thoughts after the Kentucky church massacre and V-day</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words Never Said

The last words he ever told Harry were, “Figure out Valentine’s plan and get back here right after.” What he wishes he said was, “Come back to me, I need you.” He wishes he had told Harry how much he had meant to him, how he needed to hear his dry remarks whenever Merlin scolded him for being too reckless or for being late or for taking unnecessary risks just for the sake of showing off. He wishes that he had spoken to him in those last moments, gave him some comfort while Harry had been staring down the barrel of the gun and at Valentine’s face. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to call Eggsy ‘Galahad’ without a twist of pain in his gut. 

Not that Harry would ever admit it but Eggsy was remarkably like Harry had been at that age, always teasing Merlin, making cheeky remarks to distract him from the danger that Harry was constantly in. As they both grew older, the cheeky remarks came less and less often until all he got was a smirk from Harry, asking him if he was impressed, almost as if he was showing off whatever injury he had come back with that time. 

It hurt a lot, knowing that the man he had spent so many years chastising and guiding and becoming a Kingsman with, was gone. For good this time. Once Harry had been kidnapped, glasses lost in the struggle, effectively cutting Merlin off from him. He had been frantic with worry until Harry had appeared in his office, looking half dead, yet still smirking at him. “Impressed, Merlin?” He had asked, voice rougher than he had ever heard it and it was only the exhaustion on Harry’s face that had kept Merlin from punching him then and there. Instead he had wrapped his arms around him tightly and whispered back his standard reply. “Of course not, you could always do better, you know that.” 

That was the first time he had kissed him, and Harry, never able to stop being such a cheeky bastard smirked at him, told him it was about time before kissing him again. After that, Harry would start sneak kisses before going off on his missions, leaving the proper snogs for when he came back, pressing Merlin up against the console or the desk or whatever else was nearby. Even when Merlin nagged him about how they were far too old for such things, Harry would simply kiss him right under his jaw and make Merlin forget why he was even protesting in the first place. 

And now that was all gone. Because of Valentine. Because he had sent Harry in there without back up, even though there was no reason to do so. Because Merlin hadn’t thought ahead, even though there was no way to anticipate that. Now there was only Harry’s big empty house, the one that he had always insisted was Merlin’s too, given how often he was over there. And Eggsy, there was still Eggsy, and Roxy as well. They’d both be a great comfort to each other, and Merlin, though they wouldn’t know it. They’d make him keep going, keep doing what he does best, even if all he wanted to do was collapse in that obscenely large bed that Harry had and breathe in the scent of his cologne that always seemed to linger. 

But no, he wouldn’t do that even if he didn’t have Roxy or Eggsy. He hadn’t shown any signs of weakness in years. Not since that horrible time Harry had been kidnapped. And even then, only those who knew Merlin best had been able to see how distraught he was. He remembered when they first came back to Harry’s house after that time, how Mr. Pickle has run up to them, circling around their feet and yapping at them until Harry had scooped him up and cooed at him, asking if Merlin had taken good care of him, to which Merlin had replied that of course he had, fed him and took him for walks the entire time Harry was gone, that how Mr. Pickle had obediently followed him around, looking up at him sadly, as if he knew that something was wrong. Harry had laughed at him, told him that dogs were smart, Mr. Pickle especially. 

Merlin let out a bitter laugh at the thought of how much Harry had loved that dog, how he had always teased him that maybe he had to worry about competition, or that Harry loved the dog more than him. To which he’d always get the same reply. “Don’t be daft, Merlin, of course I love him more. He doesn’t scold me every time I come back with a cut.” Now, more than ever, he keenly felt the loss of his best friend, partner and lover. And it was a pain that he didn’t think he’d ever able to recover from. Not unless he heard those two words. 

 

“Impressed, Merlin?”


End file.
